


A Godly Sacrifice

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, EUGENIDES WHY DO YOU WORRY ME SO, Gen, Mentions of Blood, gosh I am so worried for Return of the Thief, not really sure where this writing style came from, very literary esque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: A literary sort of work, centering on Eugenides the man, Eugenides the god, and the fact that the only goat we've seen in the books was one sacrificed to the gods. Based on a Tumblr comment by throwaninkpot.





	A Godly Sacrifice

He knows his wife means nothing of it when she calls him a goat, or refers to him as goat-footed, goat-stubborn, or, on particular days that he’s done his absolute best to make her lose her composure _(because she never looks more beautiful than when the mask drops)_ , a goat-brained fool

After all, plenty of people have compared Eddisians and goats.

Even sometimes Eddis herself.

There should be nothing wrong with that (well, unless it was those times it was snickered by various members of the Attolian court, but really, they learned the hard-and-also-amusing-way not to mess with and Eddisian, goat-like or god-like or anything in between)

A goat isn’t the worst thing to be compared to.

Goats are nimble, bold, and smarter than they look.

All admirable traits, in the eyes of Eugenides, who also values their stubbornness, their ability to climb where no one else can, and their sure-footedness.

But there’s one other truth about goats he knows. One that he has personally experienced, (f _or all the good it did him_.)

In the old religion, in the only religion that matters, goats are sacrificed to the gods.

* * *

 

It’s a comparison that has not gone unnoticed by either Eugenides the thief turned king, or Eugenides the man turned divine.

The king thinks about it when he’s about to sleep, and the fear of nightmares like blades into flesh keeps him awake.

The god considers it when he’s about to save his favorite thief one more time, and the fear of upsetting the balance dances over his skin like rain.

The king knows it as a truth he’s afraid to admit to, and a promise he’s terrified to keep.

The god knows it as a lie he’ll never admit to, and a wish he wishes would never be answered.

( _Neither god nor king knows that the other wonders, for though a name unites them, they are not the same. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Or perhaps they shall be. Only time, and blood, and sacrifice shall tell_ )

The nations know that nothing comes for free. That a kingdom is won by blood or loss or broken hearts and a debt must be paid, if it is due. For every blessing, a price.

But neither god, nor king, is sure anymore, what is the blessing, and what is the price?

* * *

 

Peace is expensive. That, the gods agree upon. Even those gods of other lands, worshipped by other tongues, would agree that blessing is one that is both dear and rare, and therefore, its price must be measured accordingly.

_(Prices change, of course, depending on what godly face is printed upon the coin)_

War, however, is easy. That one pays its own price. The smashed olive trees, the blood on the soil, the hands never to lift again in hope or welcome or supplication. Gods do not wish their nations destroyed, of course, but they have too destroyed things, know well the rage of battle and the sting of grief. 

But then, what if peace is paid for by war? If love is won by pain, and hope by hurt?

_(No coin has ever born the face of the God of Thieves, for reasons clear to all)_

If a goat tumbles from a cliff, does it count as an offering?

If a thief falls, and another catches him, is he still the god’s to claim?

* * *

 

Between the god and the man, and the sacrifice and the altar, waits a queen who offers her own debt, her own heart, (though never her nation, as sometimes, there are things not even a queen can offer) as payment for the answer. She knows well the debts blood can, and cannot pay. Even better does she know that rule, whispered in her ear so long ago, and yet, far too recently to be able to forget it.

_Do not offend the gods._

How is one to know, she asks, in prayer, over and over again. How is one to know what is the sacrifice and what is the blessing received?

In her dreams, over and over, blood drips onto a stone floor and a boy-turned-thief-turned-sacrifice is silent.

Lose a hand to save a life.

Lose a life to save a nation.

What is it the gods wish?

The king waits to know, and the god cannot answer.

Time moves on, as waters flow towards the sea, and the young become the old. Wars are waged and peace is won, and lost, and found once more. The temples fill with prayers, with requests and demands, and the gods choose among those who believe and those who may yet become believers. Blood drips from the altar just as surely as it does from a soldier's sword. Lives pay debts unanswerable by other sacrifices. So it has always been.

The king waits.

The god waits.

The queen prays.

The nations, even, pray, though for what, only the gods know.

* * *

 

A sacrifice is freely given.

The gods do not demand it.

_(Do not offend the gods, though, or pay the price)_

The sacrifice is sure-footed until his fall, brave until his moment of weakness, stubborn until faced with the inevitable.

_(There are some heights even a goat cannot climb)_

No matter what is given, though, a blessing or a curse may come all the same.

Eugenides lives. As man or god, only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to throwaninkpot for the idea!


End file.
